The Many Times, Places, and Faces of Sherlock
by Shinsei Tonbo
Summary: I am part of Team Watson in the Game is On Community on LJ. Through them I am playing Drabble Bingo, I have the Card posted on my LJ account. I'll be posting the entries for each Drabble as a separate chapter
1. Drabble: Deft

Sherlock was a brilliant pickpocket and don't get him started on playing poker with the man. It just wasn't to be done.

However, Geoff Lestrade had never taken Sherlock's flat-mate and Doctor, possibly the man's only friend, as a cardsharp. The man's hands moved with a subtle ease he'd more than likely had long before he had invited him to start playing with him and a few of the others from the Met. John, as he'd asked to be called, shuffled the cards with deft movements and a predatory smirk on his face.

This was not going to be good.


	2. Drabble: Incapacitated

Mycroft sighed heartily as he stared at the two forms tucked securely into the beds in front of him.

The blast had left no lasting damage on either of them, however it had left his brother incapacitated and John injured badly for the time being. He was surprised that the good Doctor had been able to pull them as far away from the wreckage he had with his bad leg really injured along with his right arm. If there was something he had to give the man credit for, it was his incomparable tenacity.

Good, he could keep up then.


	3. Double Drabble: Inspection

John Watson, Doctor, scowled ferociously as he cleaned his gun.

He cared about his roommate greatly, however there were times, much like this one, where he wondered what went through his mind. There was some kind of viscous fluid, thick and sticky, coating the slide and inside the barrel. If he didn't manage to get all of it off without damaging the metal or the guns integrity he'd have to just sell it for scrap or something.

It wasn't something he was looking forward to, he liked this gun.

He sighed in relief as the mystery gunk sloughed off the slide when he removed it from the solvent. He took one of the many brushes and made sure to clean all of the groves. This weapon had saved him and Sherlock countless times. It wasn't going to do that anymore unless he gave it the meticulous inspection and care it deserved.

Sherlock watched, sulking, from his perch as his flat-mate tend to the object that he had handled without though of the consequence so many times before. It had suffered during one his experiments and, as he had suffered from the result of that experiment, it never would again.

Ever.


	4. Drabble: Cello

It wasn't often that he came home to have tea with his mother, but Sherlock had been an absolute nightmare, it was all he could do to get out of there.

She had few requests in life so he felt the urge to grant her this even though it'd been since the middle of med school since he'd played.

He placed the cello between his thighs and thought hard about what to play and closed his eyes, he wasn't a savant, but he knew music.

Drawing the bow he played his instrument, the cello, with his all, just for her.


	5. Drabble: Musical

Sherlock had never though John had any musical talent. He had no calluses; he didn't tap out rhythms or hum excessively like many did.

So the delivery of a dark redwood, almost black, Cello and accompanying bow from Mycroft almost stumped him until he found the note.

So Mycroft spied on John's mother too, it was reassuring.

That she could cajole him into something he must not have done for a rather long time without fuss was brilliant. He might have to ask her how she did it.

It would be a wonder to have someone to play along with.


	6. Drabble: Feverish

They kissed with a feverish intensity, adrenaline coursing through their veins as Sherlock pinned John up against the brick wall of the alley he pushed them into. The last run in with Sebastian Moran, just moments ago, had been too close.

In the back of his mind, Sherlock was already making a plan to deal with Moriarty and his men once and for all. It would take time and cunning, take anonymity and solitude.

He would have to leave John behind; safe.

Until it could be put into effect, he'd steal as much time with his Doctor as he could.


	7. One Sentence: Sip

John took a long sip of the brandy that filled the glass in front of him, his mind lost to numbing chaos—Sherlock was gone, no body broken beyond repair, just gone—and he was left alone in 221b Baker with thousands of wonderful memories of a man who could no longer shoot at wall when he was bored or blow up horrid experiments of body parts and chemicals; his lover, the man who brought him back to life was gone.


	8. Challenge Fill: Notes

**J. Watson:** Sherlock, is that really what I think it is in the fridge? JW

**S. Holmes:** Of course John. What else could It it be but a human head, don't be so obstuse. SH

**J. Watson:** That's not what I meant and you know it. I meant are those flesh eating beetles? Because they are all over the inside of the fridge and all over our food; they tried to escape when I opened it. JW

**S. Holmes:** Dermestes Maculatus, John. Don't let them out of the fridge, Mrs. Hudson is already making us pay for the bullet holes, if the beetles escape they will do damage to the house as well. SH

**J. Watson:** Who is paying for the bullet damage? Please tell me this is for a case, because if you infested our only storage place for cold foods with them for no reason I may just have to ask Mycroft about you mother. I'm not above asking for us to join them for tea tomorrow. JW

**S. Holmes:** They'll be cleared out by the end of the night. SH


End file.
